


Arsonist's Lullaby

by deputyrook



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anders Positive, Blood Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Circle Mage Inquisitor, Drama, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Mage Rebellion, Mage Rights, Older Man/Younger Woman, Original Character(s), Somewhat Cullen critical but I'm not as mean to him as I could be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 18:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deputyrook/pseuds/deputyrook
Summary: Brought to the Inquisition for judgement, Anders meets the famed Herald of Andraste. As he is conscripted to work as a mage healer, he and the Inquisitor grow closer. But is there any future for a figurehead of a religious organization and the man who blew up a Chantry? How will she deal with the eyes of all of Thedas on her, as she tries to balance between her life as a public figure, and her personal desires?Anders/Female Mage Inquisitor. Canon divergence as this is not a Lavellan, this is my OC (circle elf) Inquisitor.





	Arsonist's Lullaby

He’s heard things about the Herald of Andraste.

Then again, everyone across Fereldan and Orlais has heard of her, if not everyone across all of Thedas. The rumours that spread about her are constant, and it’s impossible to tell which of them carry truth to them and which are completely false.

He’s heard that she’s an elf. He’s heard she can close the tears in the sky with a mark on her hand. He’s heard she single handedly fought against an army of cursed, red-lyrium’d Templars, and emerged victorious and untouched. He’s heard that she’s sleeping with at least four different members of the Inquisition, according to the latest Orlesian tabloid.

He hadn’t heard that she was so _short._

Marched out in chains, and brought before her throne, Anders is surprised by how ordinary the woman looks. She’s tiny, and looks... _frazzled_ , as though she’s just gotten back from sprinting across the castle grounds. Her hair is nearly white, and pulled out of her face into a bun, strands falling messily around her face. They frame high cheekbones and a strong chin, and as he’s lead in her eyes watch him, a piercing, relentless green.

The Herald sits in her throne, but looks completely out of place in it, perched on the edge of her seat. _The chair is far too big for her,_ Anders thinks, and she sits leaning forward, elbows on her knees.

She looks at him, and her lips draw into a thin line. Her expression reveals nothing but perhaps a slight curiosity. Inside him, Justice stirs restlessly.

“Inquisitor. The prisoner for you to judge today- well. I saw firsthand the destruction he caused in Kirkwall. There’s no need to go over his crimes. Surely, you’ve heard of Anders, the mage who destroyed Kirkwall’s chantry and started a war.”

Anders has to keep from grimacing. Ah, _yes._ That’s another rumour he’s heard, now confirmed to be true by the familiar face standing off to the Inquisitor’s right.

Knight-Templar Cullen stands next to where the Herald is seated, his words harsh and angry. Just the man he wants to see at his judgement. How many times had he marched into the gallows behind Hawke, only to hear Cullen speak of how mages couldn’t be trusted, and how they shouldn’t be shown kindness? Anders had bitten his tongue then, and he bites his tongue now, as the Inquisitor places her chin in her hand and peers at him.

“Yes, I’ve read Varric’s book,” The Inquisitor murmurs, and Cullen nods to her.

“Then you know how serious this matter is,” He replies, “Kirkwall, and Ferelden, have deferred to our judgement on this matter. No one will challenge your decision, but no matter how you decide, it will reflect on the Inquisition.”

Anders has to admit, Cullen looks much healthier than he did in Kirkwall. He’s dressed now in furs, but still wears armour bearing the Templar crest. Gone are the bags under his eyes, and his face seems less gaunt than in previous years. What does it say about the Inquisitor, that this man is her second? Is she similar to Meredith? Worse? Anxiety turns Ander’s stomach, even as he wills himself to be steeled, to meet his judgement with his head held high.

“I assume you have recommendations?” She asks Cullen, and he nods.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cullen responds smoothly, “First, execution. Many people in Kirkwall died as a result of his actions, both in the explosion and the aftermath. There is precedent to see this man dead. It’s the simplest solution, and one that will be unlikely to be met with much criticism.”

Anders looks away. Honestly, that’s about what he expected from the moment the soldiers of the Inquisition had declared him under their custody. Even still, his mouth runs dry, and his heart hammers, no matter how much he wills it to be calm.

The Inquisitor nods, and Cullen continues.

“We could make him tranquil-”

Fear jolts through Anders, icy through his veins, and if he was nervous before, he’s terrified now. _Maker, no._ Killing him would be a mercy by comparison, he can’t imagine something he wants less than to be made tranquil, or something he is more afraid of. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die on his lips when he sees the Inquisitor’s expression.

 _She’s angry,_ he thinks, startled, and his fear is almost (almost) overtaken by his surprise. He realizes that angry is too mild of a word for what burns in her gaze- it’s _fury_ , and as she turns to Cullen, Anders nearly winces on his behalf.

“Commander,” The Inquisitor says, calmly and quietly, “I’ve spoken to you about this before. Tranquility is off the table, and it always _will_ be off the table at all judgements. I thought you understood me when I told you I no longer wanted recommendations that featured it?”

Cullen’s expression doesn’t change, but slowly, his ears and neck turn a brilliant shade of scarlet. He avoids her gaze, and nods, instead focusing suspiciously intently on the clipboard he holds. Anders feels a relief so strongly at her assertion that he will not be made tranquil that his hands begin to shake. Inside his heart, Justice hums in approval of the Herald, for at least this small refusal.

“I merely thought- in this situation-” Cullen sighs, and rubs the back of his neck. The Inquisitor’s eyes are still narrowed, and he nods. “Of course, Inquisitor. I’ll strike the suggestion from the record.”

As quickly as she’d angered, the Inquisitor seems to relax, satisfied. Her fingers dance over the hilt of a sword, missing the blade, that’s attached to her hip.

“We could exile him. Tevinter, or perhaps the the Anderfels would be apt. Anywhere closer and he’ll likely be killed by someone else, or else fall under Corypheus’ influence, given his past as a Grey Warden.” Anders frowns at Cullen’s words. _Corypheus?_

“Or...” Cullen hesitates, and shoots the Inquisitor an apprehensive look. He sighs again. “ _Or_ , you can conscript him to work for the Inquisition. People won’t like it. You’ll attract criticism from a number of groups, including the Chantry, and a good number of our own soldiers.” Anders notices that the corner of the Inquisitor’s lip curves, ever so slightly.

“He’s a healer, isn’t he? Didn’t I request a mage healer for the Inquisition around a month ago?” She says, and truly, Anders isn’t quite sure what’s happening. With the soldiers at his sides, and the chains on his wrists, he’d been certain he was about to die at the Herald’s hand. She was a holy symbol, and his crime was the destruction of the Chantry. He’d expected her to be furious with him, to be just another Chantry-type that didn’t understand.

And there is another, quieter part of him still believes he deserves to die for what he’s done. He’d expected Hawke to do it, several years ago, immediately after the Chantry went up in flames. When Hawke had frowned at him and said that she wouldn’t make him a martyr, he’d felt a mess of emotions- confusion, hope, shock, and uncertainty. Now, he feels much of the same.

“You did.” Cullen says, and with each passing second, Anders is getting the impression that the man would rather be anywhere else right about now. The set of his jaw is tense, and his expression is grim.

“Hmm,” The Inquisitor hums, looking at him. Anders looks back, unabashed. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

He thinks for a moment. Part of him wants to ask her- _Do you think Andraste would look upon me kindly?_ It’s a thought that’s been on his mind lately. Andraste had fought to free elven slaves, and he’d done the same for mages, hadn’t he? He’d always thought himself Andrastian, and now that the Herald was in front of him, he supposed he could ask her. _Do you think she would have wanted what happened to us?_

He’s _also_ heard rumour that the Inquisition is sheltering the remnants of the mage rebellion. He almosts asks her about it- asks her why she and her religious army would stick out their necks for the mages. Years on the run have made him guarded, suspicious. And he has so many questions for this strange organization, and the woman who stands before him.

But Anders says none of that. Instead, he simply says, “I don’t regret it. The innocent lives lost, yes, but what I did was _necessary._ Maybe it means nothing to you, but Meredith-” It doesn’t escape him how Cullen winces at the mention of her name- “had filed for the Right of Annulment anyway . It was a fight or a slaughter.”

The Inquisitor hums. “Did she, Cullen?” She asks, and Cullen frowns.

“I had heard rumours, but never knew if she had or not. At the end, she kept much from even me.” Anders wants to roll his eyes at that, very much doubting the truth of the statement. But he knows better than to make a bad situation worse, and far better than to piss off an already annoyed Templar while he’s in chains.

“What do you think, Cole?” The Inquisitor asks, and Anders is surprised as he notices a boy standing on her left, peering at him from under a wide-brimmed, floppy hat. How had he not noticed him before? Justice reacts inside, a sudden flare of confusion, and shock. Anders doesn’t understand, not until Justice’s voice whispers in his mind _that is a spirit of compassion._

“He wonders how I exist without a host,” The boy says, tilting his head, “Burning, sorrow, rage. But Justice is hard- _has_ to be. He misses the singing.”

The Inquisitor nods. “I’m sure you’ve realized Cole is a spirit. He’s... unique.”

As she speaks, Anders- and Justice- know she’s telling the truth.

 _He’s strange._ Justice murmurs. _Not a demon. But not fully a spirit. Somewhere between human and spirit._

 _Like us?_ Anders wonders. But the boy continues to speak.

“Running, falling, swimming. Trying not to freeze. He tried, so many times, to escape from them. He’s still running. He still sees Karl’s blank eyes when he sleeps, sometimes.”

Anders goes cold. “Stop,” he says.

“Is he a threat?” The Inquisitor asks, standing now beside Cole, “That’s all I want to know.”

Cole seems to think for a moment. And then, he shakes his head.

“Not unless you start to treat your mages like _they_ did,” He answers. Then, the boy turns toward Anders, pointing to the Inquisitor. “She understands. Caged, pain, not remembering the feeling of rain on her skin. She wants to protect everyone, the mages, yes, but _everyone_ .” Anders looks at her, and a flush has dusted across her cheeks, “She wouldn’t let anyone touch- you don’t realize. She’s a mage, too. She _knows._ ”

Anders feels monumentally stupid, in that moment. How had he not noticed? How had he not heard _that_ rumour? Suddenly, her support of the mage rebellion makes complete sense. The part of his mind that had separated _Chantry and Herald_ from _mages and magic_ had stopped him from even considering the thought that she could be one, too.

He had even more questions now than before. How had they all accepted a mage as their Herald, their Inquisitor? Even Cullen answered to her, a fact that boggled his mind now.

And then, the Inquisitor slips the sword hilt from her belt, and it ignites in light. The blade is made of magic, and it thrums around her as she stands with the sword, resting both of her hands on the pommel. Her shoulders straighten, and she stands before the court every bit _The Herald of Andraste_ that would be legend someday. How could he have seen her as anything but a mage? The magic moves in her, through her, around her, effortlessly.

Anders is aware, very suddenly, that he is staring in awe. Even Justice seems moved. He casts his eyes down, nervous again.

“Anders. The Inquisition has been called to judge your crime- the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry, and the lives of those within. This is not a small crime, and given the mage-templar war which followed, many people are... passionate about this matter. No matter how I judge, my decision will be polarizing.” Anders looks up again at her, watches as she speaks, her voice strong and unwavering.

“I have a precedent now, of handing out judgements of conscription to work for the benefit of the Inquisition,” She says, after a slight pause. “And I’ve spoken to both Varric and Hawke about how I should decide in this judgement. Beyond a moral decision is a practical one: I need a mage healer, and I have heard you are a very, very good one.” The Inquisitor takes a deep breath.

“For these reasons, I conscript you into the service of the Inquisition as a healer. Your movement through Skyhold will be limited, and you will have eyes on you always, at least in the beginning.”

“And if I refuse?” Anders isn’t sure how he finds his voice, and his words almost surprise him. But adrenaline is thrumming through his veins, and he shakes his head, in spite of himself. “Will you have me be your slave here? A prisoner?” No. Even if the boy- the _Spirit_ is right, and that she treats her mages well, he doesn’t want that.

The Inquisitor looks surprised. Her face is open, honest with the emotion, and she’s easy to read as she de-ignites her sword and smiles ruefully.

“Well, I was planning to pay you,” She mutters, and once again, she’s no longer _the Herald_ , but instead a seemingly normal elven woman. And again, it feels as though there’s no magic in her, even when Anders reaches out to see if he can feel it. _Very curious._

“If you refuse to work, you’ll be exiled.” She says then, plainly. “Like Cullen says, I can’t have you falling under Corypheus’ influence and becoming another enemy. But I would think of this as an offer.” Walking toward him down the steps, the Inquisitor stands in front of him, and speaks casually. As if they’re not surrounded by her guard, and he isn’t in chains.

“After all, those that join the Inquisition, even by conscription, find a home with us. This is more than an army, it’s a family, and I protect those who are in it. And I happen to know of a certain belligerent Prince who nearly annexed Kirkwall on a warpath to find you.”

For a moment, Anders is blinded by the memory of the Warden. The way she’d grinned, how fierce she was, and the way that she stood between him and the group of Templars who tried to drag him back to the circle. She was a woman who didn’t care about the law, or what was right. She cared about the people in her inner circle, and anyone that tried to hurt them met a quick and brutal end. The same ferocity burned within the Herald, though perhaps this woman had a bit more polish and poise than the Warden ever had. Still, Anders suspected they would get along well if they ever met.

“Well. Either way suits me fine,” She shrugs, “If you’d rather be exiled, it’s your choice. It would certainly save me the earfuls I’m sure to get from some in my inner circle for this decision.”

Cullen sighs audibly behind her, and Anders can see her mouth twitch as she tries to keep herself from smiling. “Case in point,” She murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear, and Anders is equal parts cautious, baffled, and endeered.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Looks from the Inquisitor, to Cullen, and mulls it over. He does a gut check with Justice, who he finds is still fixated on the presence of the spirit of compassion called Cole.

_This Inquisition is an agent of change within Thedas. For good or for bad. You have a chance to influence it. Do not throw away the chance to do good._

“I... accept this judgement, then.” Anders says. Once again, it seems like he’s escaped the fire by leaping into the unknown. Wildly, he feels relief and apprehension flash through him.

The Inquisitor turns her back to him, walking back up to her throne and sitting. She looks pleased, and Anders doesn’t miss the look she shares with Cullen- smug on her part, exhausted on his.

“Then it’s done. We’ll set you up a room, and I’ll collect you from the cell shortly. I have a few more judgements, but you won’t be there for much longer. I can spare an hour to show you around.” The Inquisitor nods. “Welcome to the Inquisition. Oh! You should probably do the ‘kneeling and swearing fealty to us’ thing.”

Anders stares at her for a moment too long, and a guard beside him clears his throat. Hastily, Anders bends his knee, putting a fist over his heart in what he hopes is an approximation of the required gesture. After a few moments of feeling foolish, he straightens awkwardly, but it seems to have done the trick. The Inquisitor nods to him, and he’s led out of the room again, still in chains.

This time, Cullen joins the guards and walks him back to the cell, a hand firmly on his shoulder. Judging by the grim expression on his face, Cullen doesn’t approve of the Inquisitor’s decision. The knowledge brings a slight thrill to Anders, a small pleasure.

As they exit the great hall, away from the eyes of the Herald, Cullen’s expression becomes even stormier. Anders watches him but says nothing. He’d much rather not speak with the Knight-Templar, and he wonders again how _this man_ has come to work for a mage.

Apparently, Cullen doesn’t share his wish for continued silence. He clears his throat, and speaks to Anders. “If you try to escape, or lay one hand on her, I will kill you.”

Anders scoffs- he can’t help it. “I’m not a fool,” He remarks, glancing at Cullen from the corner of his eye, “I know when I’ve been given an opportunity that shouldn’t be thrown away.”

Cullen says nothing, and damn his tongue, Anders has to continue.

“Besides. Out of the two of us, you’re the one more likely to harm the Inquisitor, given that she’s a mage. Isn’t that right, Knight-Templar?”

Now, Cullen is openly glaring at him, his expression pulling back into a snarl.

“I am no longer a Knight-Captain. I work for the Inquisition now,” Cullen snaps, and Anders raises an eyebrow, looking at the Templar sword symbol carved into his gauntlets. The two of them have stopped in the middle of the side-hallway to the dungeons to argue, and the two other guards shift, uncomfortable.

“Your whole ‘mages-aren’t-people’ beliefs must go over fantastically with her. Or does she not know that’s what you believe?” Really, Anders should stop talking. But he can feel the anger and the bitterness welling inside him. How can this man- who oversaw so much death and abuse- be in such a high position now? How could she possibly trust him? “Did you just step into the role for the power, pretending you’ve changed?”

“I _have_ changed,” Cullen argues, and Anders is a bit surprised to hear him say it. “You don’t know anything about the Herald- what she’s like. You don’t know her. You know nothing about this. I don’t hate mages, not on principle, not anymore. But I hate _you_ , murderer, for very good reason.”

Anders really has nothing to say to that, though he doubts Cullen’s emphatic assurances. He sets his gaze straight ahead, and breathes out the anger that is brewing inside of him. Putting his hand back on Anders shoulder, and giving a shove, Cullen leads him back to the cell he had been occupying.

But Maker, does Anders hate being kept inside a cell. As Cullen locks the cell, and the guards leave him to silence, he hopes the Herald is good on her word. 


End file.
